


He's Nervous

by daisybrien



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Concerts, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot, performance anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: Kravitz is rattled by nerves on his big night, and Taako is there to settle them.





	He's Nervous

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was 'concert.'

“Does my tie look even?” 

Taako looks up at the frantic voice beckoning him by name, thumb still idly brushing the chipped nail polish he had been scrutinizing as his eyes dart to the voice across the room. It takes longer than a second to lock his eyes on Kravitz, his quaking form scurrying around the room in nervous circles, walking back and forth from wall to wall, bookcase back to vanity where he inspects his gaunt image in the mirror. He fiddles with the bowtie around his neck, his shaky, nimble fingers entangled as they try to pry the fabric from its knots. 

It takes a moment for Kravitz to stop muttering to himself, the scared wide-eyed stare of his finally settling so Taako can meet their reflection. Kravitz bites his lip, silently pleading with his boyfriend from across the room, a ball of desperate anxiety bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Taako snorts to himself, grinning, sinking back into his puddle of satin and lace in Kravitz’ lounge chair. He takes in the scene with amused nonchalance, giggling with half pity as Kravitz throws his hands up in resignation.

“You really find this funny, don’t you?” Kravitz cries, coughing as his voice cracks at the last syllable. He whirls around to glare at Taako when his laughter grows, tapping his nails on the counter behind him indignantly.

“Absolutely, my man,” Taako responds. “I’m just glad you’re not gonna be singing, that pitch can burst an ogre’s eardrums.”

Kravitz huffs, turning around to further mutilate the poor tie around his neck. “I really don’t need this right now-“

“I know, I know,” Taako hums. He swings his legs from the arm of the chair in a slow, smooth wave, adjusting the shawls around him as he saunters over to the vanity. He turns Kravitz towards him. “I’m just teasin’.”

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t.” Kravitz says, pouting to himself, annoyance twisting his furrowed brow. His face relaxes as Taako’s hands cover his own, warmth easily flooding his dark eyes as he watches him work the tie around his neck with practiced ease. 

“Can’t help teasing cute guys, you know me,” Taako mutters, intent on his handiwork. “And you’re almost cute when you’re this nervous.”

“I’m sure not feeling anything of the sort,” Kravitz laughs, voice shaking; Taako notes the way his accent lilts each word, heavier now. He lets out a breath, staring up at the ceiling. “I sure don’t feel the least bit presentable. Not in the slightest.”

“Fuck that noise,” Taako says. He takes a step back, eyeing the tie before nodding, as if in approval. Even in the sickly yellow light of the shining bulbs around Kravitz’ mirror, the shadows of his face gaunt and sharp as ever, Taako is taken aback by the handsome man in front of him. “You’re looking fan-fucking-tastic.”

Kravitz notes the way his eyes slowly glide downwards, the corner of his lips quirking up the further they go. “Stop it.”

“Hm?” Taako’s ears perk, and he looks at Kravitz with dramatic innocence. “Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He laughs when Kravitz huffs again, watching his skin grow hot under his necktie, rising up to his ears. 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling Kravitz forward by the hand. “C’mere! I’m gonna give you some of the ol’ Taako charm, because you need to get that suave-reaper attitude back in you.” He would disintegrate from nerves five minutes in without it, but Taako doesn’t say it out loud.

“Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Depends,” Taako muses, “critics are always gonna be brutal on debuts, so you’re deffo gonna need to up the ante.” Taako watches Kravitz pale at his words, swooping in to catch himself before the poor man in front of him all put shits his eight hundred gold piece tuxedo. “That’s show biz for ya, but you’ll get your footing. With the talent you got, you’ll knock everyone else off their feet.

“Now c’mon, first impression stance, Taako’s gonna give you that confidence,” he steps back, one hand lazily waving as he directs Kravitz along. “Chin up, back straight, shoulders back – oh my god,” Taako laughs, watching Kravitz’ shoulders go square and stiff like a wood plank. “Okay, that fucking ridiculous.”

“Taako.”

“Okay, okay, drastic measures,” he steps forward, hands running up Kravitz’ arms, up over his shoulders. His fingers work his muscles through the fabric of his clothes, kneading each knot tenderly. 

Kravitz’s response is immediate, going slack under his fingertips, head falling back and letting out a long-held breath. 

“That’s what I like to see,” Taako hums, hands digging deeper.

Kravitz opens his eyes, and although his brow is still furrowed, his stance is stronger, less stiff. “Curtain’s in ten minutes.” 

“Then you better let this little gift last you,” Taako says. He moves one hand up Kravitz’ neck, cupping his cheek daintily. He takes a minute to look Kravitz in the eyes again, raising his eyebrows at him, and when Kravitz chuckles in return he closes the gap, pressing their lips together softly.

They both break the kiss too soon, both left with more to desire as Kravitz moves back to the vanity, a move out of obligation. He straightens his lapels, checking his watch again as he adjusts each cuff. “This is it.”

“Fuck yeah!” Taako says. “Fuckin’ it, bubbeleh. You got this.”

“Of course,” Kravitz turns to Taako, pressing a kiss to his cheek quickly. “You’ll be there cheering for me – and at the appropriate times.”

Taako crinkles his nose at the chastisement, making his way towards the exit. “Gods, yes, I know, it’s not a rock concert, you’ve said it fifty times since we saw Fantasy Yo Yo Ma.”

“Just checking,” Kravitz says idly, turning back to his vanity. 

Taako is halfway out the door before he takes a moment to look back into the dim light of the dressing room, the haphazard scattering of hangers and books and clothes all in disarray; in the middle of it all is Kravitz, looking down at his desk with thrilled anxiety. He watches the way his fingers ghost across each sheet of music; a dazzling array of notes and keys Taako can’t even begin to fathom, Kravitz reads them not just with ease, but with quiet passion. It is when he opens the box on the counter, slowly cradling the baton inside with wonder and joy alight on his face that Taako decides its time to leave him be.

“See you on stage, conductor,” he singsongs, blowing a kiss through the crack in the door before racing back to the hall to find his seat.

**Author's Note:**

> Let him be the conductor griffin.


End file.
